With Friends Like These
Tempestor Prime Gareth listened to the sound of the machines. The techpriests said that the machine spirit, and by extension the machines, could speak. The most exalted of the priests could simply listen to any engine, any cogitator, any bit of equipment and immediately know what it was in most dire need of. Tempestor Prime Gareth, head of the 133rd Lambdan Lions knew better than to doubt the techpriests on this fact but despite his knowledge of Lingua Technica, at the end of the day he knew his place. He was a Tempestor Prime, commander of some of the Imperium's deadliest storm troopers. Leave the mysteries of the Omnissiah to the priests. He and his men would take orders and crush the enemies of man instead.
The 133rd Lambdan Lions, though technically under the jurisdiction of the Ordo Tempustus, worked closely with the techpriests of Mezoa. Often times, it was easy to mistake the storm troopers for just being differently dressed Skitarii. Like the Mechanicus soldiers, the Lambden Lions wore red on their armor, some even had augmentations like their Skitarri counterparts and their weapons were equally matched in killing power. It was who they technically answered to that drove the differences. Gareth had his moments where he wondered if the priests broke protocol and issued them orders without the approval of the Ordo but he had yet to hear of such a thing. At the end of the day, it did not matter. It was his job to take orders and then issue them to the men under him.
He and his command squad were summoned once again. The priests wanted them present during the search ritual. One of the main cogitators had begun to sing again and when the Infinity Engine cried, then he and his men would be sent to another world with another mission from the priests.
It was no secret that here on Mezoa, with a thriving population numbering several billion, the techpriests were very interested in archeotech, especially those that were lost on worlds that currently were not under the light of the Emperor. Just as the worlds of man would one day be returned to the Imperium, so too would all lost technology be brought back to the god of all machines. For long months or even years the priests would tend to the Infinity Engine, listening to it's every murmur and groan, searching for it's next direction for it would always point to a world that once had a human settlement and with that, the possibility that another lost artefact would be found.
Escorted by the red robed priests, their hands and mechadendrites clasped in prayer and reverence, Gareth and his soldiers were brought to the sanctum as pistons and fans pounded and hummed, large cables thrumming with power as the large, globe like Infinity Engine highlighted a particular section of the galaxy, appearing as a flickering holographic projection. All around it, chanting priests sung the hymns and litanies, appendages, whether their original hands or mechanical augmentations, were outstretched in supplication. Standing before the main command podium of the Infinity Engine, a techpriest stood, deciphering the runes that were spelled out by the projection before turning at Gareth's approach.
"Welcome, Tempestor Prime." the techpriest greeted before making the sign of the cog a, circular wave of his mechadendrites.
"Magos Dorstadt." Gareth replied curtly with a salute, as was expected of any scion of the Ordo Tempestus.
"The Infinity Engine calls out again, Tempestor." The Magos announced simply, his voice synthesizer speaking in the non-mechanical language that Gareth would understand. So inefficient, unlike the much faster processing of the machines.
"We need you to go to the planet Corinth located on the Eastern Fringe. An expeditionary force was sent there in the years of the Dark Age of Technology. However, it fell silent during the Age of Strife. It has been silent since then and no effort has been made to re-establish contact with the planet. Regardless of whether its original inhabitants live or have passed, we must find any archeotech they may have left behind."
"Do we have any intelligence as to where we can begin our search on the planet?" Gareth asked coldly.
"No. That is why we took the liberty of contacting a psyker to read the Emperor's Tarot on this matter. Some things are beyond the realm of machines." The magos pointed to a blind but chanting psyker just off to the side of the engine. As he droned, various cards rose from a deck at his feet to orbit the air around him, sometimes one at a time, sometimes in groups. Some would settle back to the deck, others would continue their orbit only to return or be lifted up again.
"How long has he been like this?" Gareth asked, uncertainty growing inside him. He, like most men of the Imperium, were uneasy of psykers no matter how useful they were.
"17 minutes, 34.7 seconds." Magos Dorstadt reported quickly.
Suddenly, the cards tumbled to the floor, save for three that remained suspended in the air directly in front of the psyker's face. Despite his covered eyes, it seemed that the seer could see right through the cards. He did not wait for the others to speak to him.
"The first card is that of the Emperor's Light. To this place you must go. The second of the Beast's Scythe. You will find adversity and great danger. There will be death."
"What of the third?" Gareth inquired, eyes dead set on the psyker.
"That of the shrouded stranger."
"...And what does that mean?" the Tempestor demanded after the uncomfortable silence lasted too long.
"A wild card. Aid unlooked for, a hinderance and a blessing. A candle in a shadow in a light."
"I don't know what you're trying to say."
"The cards are silent on that matter as well."
"It does not matter, Tempestor. Go to Corinth. Search for it's ruins. Find what belongs to us." Magos Dorstadt interrupted, his many optics staring at the soldier.
"As ordered." Gareth replied with a salute.
Shas'O Sa'cea Diamoto stared out into the void, fingers steepled as he contemplated the murky path before him. The days prior had been tense. The majority of his cadre were wakened from their stasis sleep, run through the training regimes to sharpen their skills and then told that they were far from the empire and at the edge of the Forbidden Zone. Naturally, the news was slowly and painfully being digested; Diamoto's lieutenants were just as baffled and hurt at the news although he had managed to finally get them in line.
How did he end up here? How in the course of following the Greater Good did he lead his soldiers away from the Ethereals, onto the trail of a declared traitor and chasing the wrath of the Warp?
The dark entity of Building 83 was a catalyst no doubt but sometimes the journey astray begins closer to home. In this case, it was his admiral that played a role in the whole affair. When the Shadow Lance cadre was first put together, Diamoto was unsure of having Vior'lan Air Caste members running his ships. Vior'lan Firewarriors were known for their aggression and hot headedness and therefore, by extension, their Air Caste natives as well. Admiral Hail Wind, the head Air Caste of the cadre tasked with ferrying Diamoto and his soldiers, had proven to be disciplined and reliable though his personal temperaments reflected the stereotypes of his homeworld. But now it had played to Diamoto's benefit. The traitorous commander had hailed from Vior'la and after Diamoto had metaphorically, and almost physically, twisted Hail Wind's arm, he had the information he needed. The admiral set a course for the Forbidden Zone. Otherwise known as the "Farsight Enclaves" to the displaced Tau who lived there and their clandestine sympathizers in the home Empire.
Of all Diamoto's senior officers, Hail Wind seemed to be the only one who was open to the idea of making contact with the Enclaves though he warned that they would probably be met with distrust at first. Stone Dagger, head of the foot troops, remained in stony silence throughout the debriefing Diamoto had given. Head Hunter Korst, the Kroot in charge of their assigned auxiliaries, was neutral to the whole affair. Sha'ra, their Water Caste ambassador, was aghast. El'Vira, his sub-commander, demanded an explanation. Admittedly, going rogue and joining with the Tau who lived in the Forbidden Zone on the hunt of an impending Warp rift was not satisfactory to his lieutenants but they had relented to his interpretation of fulfilling the Greater Good.
At least they retained their discipline to follow orders even if their loyalty had been tested.
"We are receiving a transmission, Shas'O." Hail Wind reported from his separate ship. Diamoto nodded in acknowledgment.
"From this 'Enclave' you mentioned?"
"Presumably. It matches no other signatures from our Empire and it's coming in clear. These are Tau, commander."
"Put them on my screen." Diamoto ordered and then readied himself for whatever would be on the other end. Nothing could have prepared him for the familiarity yet suddenness of the surprise that awaited him.
Diamoto's brows wrinkled at what he saw. The image of a fellow Tau stared back at him, her face etched in the brazen sternness that characterized all those born in the firewarrior caste. Wild, powerful tattoos of billowing flames wreathed her face and disappeared under the blood red armor she wore.
"This is sub-commander Torchstar of the Farsight Enclaves. Identify yourself and state your intentions."
"Shas'O Sa'Cea Diamoto. I'm the commander of this battlegroup, the Shadow Lance Cadre. We are on the hunt for an enemy." the grizzled veteran replied. Perhaps it had been foolishness on his part but he was partially expecting to hear from a delegate of Commander Farsight himself.
"We bear no ill intention to the Empire, fellow firewarrior but if you are the vanguard of a war to take away our freedom, we will fight back, Shas'O." Torchstar replied fiercely. Diamoto was taken aback.
"We're not here to fight you."
"Oh? Are you fugitives then? Explain to me why a commander with a battlegroup at full readiness is at our doorstep when we know that the rest of the Empire has condemned us and declared our Enclave forbidden?" the sub-commander snapped skeptically.
"This has nothing to do with politics." Diamoto spat. "I have reason to believe that fellow Tau, our people, are in danger of a great enemy and I will only reveal this intelligence to you highest leaders. I must speak to your Commander Farsight, if he yet lives as my admiral tells me."
"I am Sub-Commander Torchstar, one of Farsight's Eight. Do not mistake my rank because of my title, Shas'O Diamoto." Torchstar said, returning his steely gaze. "You're lucky we didn't have the orbital stations ready their weapons and tear you apart on sight. Order your ships to power down their weapons and tell me about your 'intelligence.'"
Diamoto ignored the barb and sat back, entwining his fingers together as he considered his next words carefully. "Are you familiar with the entities the gue'la call 'daemons,' sub-commander?"
Miguel sat uncomfortably at what the Tau used as a cantina during the down times between battles and transit. He was flanked on both sides by his two new "friends" assigned to him by the commander himself. On one side, numbly drinking some hot beverage, was the water caste diplomat attached to the cadre, Sha'ra. On the other was Fio'la Yiv'ahe, one of the many earth caste technicians that kept the cadre running. He was busying himself by prodding and fine tuning one of his many tools that he kept on hand. Miguel's new friends, for all their sophistication and sincerity, they just did not replace Gunther.
"Are you sure you don't want me to reconfigure one of our pulse weapons for you?" Yiv'ahe offered for the upteenth time. Miguel didn't bother hiding his exasperation.
"No, bad enough you got me into this 'stealth suit' or whatever you call it."
While the rest of the cadre went to sleep in their stasis chambers at the beginning of the journey, Diamoto, Sha'ra, Yiv'ahe and Miguel spent the better part of two weeks tinkering, negotiating and otherwise trying to adjust to the changes. Diamoto decided he needed Miguel in a stealth suit, a good balance of firepower, covert capabilities and the ability to use a jetpack. Yiv'ahe agreed and knew they had several outdated but functioning models of the old XV-15s laying around. These were even slimmer than the XV-25s and while they lacked the more sophisticated stealth systems, they could still get the job done if used cautiously. Unfortunately, the Tau had to clash with many years of training in Miguel, training that taught him to fear and loathe xeno weapons. It took two whole days for Yiv'ahe to explain that there were no "spirits" inside the stealth suit and they certainly weren't actively trying to kill him. An even bigger ruckus exploded when they tried to get him to use the pulse weapons used by their firewarriors, the same weapons he saw gun down his comrades.
In the end, a compromise was struck. Miguel would keep his trusty lasgun so long as he allowed himself to be strapped into an XV-15. Neither party was completely happy and at least Diamoto was no longer considering him being collared via massive sedation. To top off the tech-heresy, an audio-modulator was strapped to the human's ear so that he could understand what all the Tau around him were saying. Only Sha'ra humored him by speaking directly in gothic anymore.
"Let Gue'vesa'ui Miguel be, Yiv'ahe." Sha'ra tutted as she continued to sip from her cup. "The commander is correct when he believes that it is best for him to decide which weapon he is most comfortable with."
"The Imperial laser weapons are durable and reliable, I will grant them that." the earth caste technician admitted. "But so are our pulse weapons and they have a far greater energy output."
"I'm still getting used to this throne-damned thing." Miguel grumbled, tapping the oversized shoulder plate of his stealth suit. "At least I know what makes a lasgun tick. I don't need to be having hiccups with my weapon in the middle of battle." As if to punctuate his point, his suit's active camouflage engaged and his suddenly appeared to be an disembodied head.
"The suit is still getting used to your biometrics. For some reason it decided you wanted to be invisible." Yiv'ahe explained with mild fascination.
"You told me this thing didn't have spirits in it!" Miguel snapped.
"That's because there isn't! It's purely a sensor with is driven by programming. There is no such-"
"That's enough, my honored comrades." Sha'ra scolded tiredly, not wanting to hear this very same bickerment erupt yet again.
"Is there a reason everyone seems short tempered these days? You Tau don't seem to be as haughty and chipper as usual." Miguel observed. The technician and ambassador were left in uncomfortable silence.
"We will talk about that at a different time, Gue'vesa'ui." Sha'ra finally said.
"It wasn't something I did, was it?"
"No. It is not your fault, we'll leave it at that."
Any further dialogue was cut short when all three received a conference transmission over their communicators. In the chaotic and logistical quagmire that was a Tau ship coming out of stasis, many commanders opted to keep their lieutenants in the loop via radio.
"This is Diamoto. Initial talks with the Enclave have been mixed. The good news is that they won't be opening fire on us."
"What is the bad news?" El'Vira, Diamoto's sub-commander, asked.
"We'll have to accomplish an errand for them if we're going to win their trust."
"Do we want to do that?" Stone Dagger's grumbled complaint chimed in.
"We do ourselves no favors alienating a potential ally and we do not know the complete situation on why they are separated from the rest of the Empire. I'll have no more complaints from you, Shas'vre." Diamoto rebuked.
"Yes, sir. My apologies."
"Very good. Recently a ship of Imperial Rogue Traders made contact with the Enclave and claimed they had been lost in the warp. When dialogue was finished, they left though they have not engaged their warp drives yet. Enclave command worries that the ship captain is trying to scout out the planets held by the Enclave and sell it back to the Imperium. They do not want this to happen."
"Commander, I believe you're the one that said politics were of no importance and our main target were the daemons." Miguel interjected.
"Correct but our cadre will not last long without support. We are going to sustain casualties, expend ammunition and take battle damage. We are going to need allies, if only to supply us with what we need. If we do this task, we'll be able to prosecute what we came here for. Besides, they've tracked this Rogue trader ship to a nearby world. In the human tongue it is called Corinth."
Miguel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. If there was anything he had learned about the warp and daemons back on Building 83, sometimes intuition was more important than logic.
"I have a good feeling about that name." Miguel announced.
"So do I, gue'vesa. So do I."